


Becoming Like Stone

by Alethia



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Episode Fix-it, Episode Related, F/M, First Time, Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-12-07 16:37:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18237476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alethia/pseuds/Alethia
Summary: Pike frowned. "I need to know if you have doubts."Michael couldn't help it; she scoffed. "I'm about to die; of course I have doubts."





	Becoming Like Stone

**Author's Note:**

> As I watched 2.10 "The Red Angel" I kept waiting for a grown-ass adult to speak up about how colossally idiotic their plan was, on multiple levels, and _no one did_. It's really quite something when _every character_ is made to carry the idiot ball. So this happened. Huge spoilers, this won't make sense unless you've seen the episode. Also posted [here](https://alethia.dreamwidth.org/1023581.html).

Michael walked into the ready room, thoughts swirling, too easy to get lost in them with so little to do. It was the ultimate irony; as the bait in the upcoming mission, she had no role—other than the obvious—and thus nothing but time to think. She didn't need any more time to think. 

Pike's summons was a welcome distraction. 

"You wanted to see me, sir?" she asked, clocking the heaviness in his eyes, the recently-used glass from his drink cart. 

"Yeah, thanks." He looked to the side, calling out, "Computer, privacy protocol." The computer chirped, the doors securing. They wouldn't be interrupted until Pike called off the protocol. 

Michael tried not to focus too much on that. She didn't need any...stray thoughts right now, not with the uncertainty and fear buzzing under her skin, her equilibrium already so compromised. 

Pike took a beat looking down at his desk, eyes locked in an endless stare, seeing nothing. Then he shook his head, once, and looked up to her. 

"I need you to be real with me."

Michael shifted, not certain where this was going. "I'm always honest with you, Captain. Ever since Terralysium. You know that."

"Chris."

Michael tilted her head. "Sir?"

Pike pointed to her and said, "Michael." Then he pointed to himself: "And Chris. That's who's talking right now. Not the captain and his brilliant science officer, not Starfleet personnel, not the Mojave test pilot or even the red angel. Michael and Chris," he repeated, gaze intense. 

Michael swallowed, not liking where this was headed. It was...easier to keep things neat and clear and professional. Pike pushing things into the personal felt...messy. 

But she also wouldn't deny her captain, not when his eyes implored her so. 

"Fine then. Chris," she offered, the name sounding foreign to her for all that Leland and Cornwell used it regularly. Using it herself felt like crossing a line in her own mind, even with his permission. Maybe because of that. 

Pike nodded, shooting her an appreciative look. Then his brow furrowed, worry surfacing. "I need to know if you have doubts."

Michael couldn't help it; she scoffed. "I'm about to die; of course I have doubts."

"That's not what I mean." Pike sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Look, I know you love Spock. Hell, I love Spock. I also _know_ Spock. I know how he can make even the most cuckoo bananapants plan sound like the only sensible thing in the goddamn universe."

Michael couldn't help it: "Cuckoo bananapants?" 

"Just go with it," he said, a flash of sly humor there. He quickly went serious again, voice full of sympathy. "I also know how hard it is to call something off once you've committed. How it can feel like things get away from you, become so much bigger than you, that they take on a life of their own. _I get it_. So I'm asking, Michael, do you have doubts?"

Michael's eyes widened as her heart rate sped up, his words hitting a little too close to home, to all the second-guessing she'd already cycled through. Still, she shook her head. "I hear you, Captain— _Chris_ —but Spock's analysis is sound. My analysis is sound. Using me as bait is the most logical way to—"

"Dammit, Michael, I'm not talking about logic," he cut in, voice tinged with frustration. He pinned her with a look, one she could _feel,_ forceful in a way he never was with her. "Hell, even I can poke holes in your vaunted logic."

Michael shook her head, taken aback. "What do you mean?"

"Please. To start with, _you,_ Michael Burnham, are one of the finest officers I've ever had the pleasure to serve with. Your dedication to Starfleet is absolute, your heart is true. If some future version of you is going back in time to save everyone, why the _hell_ are we getting in her way?"

It burned through her, such a pronouncement of _faith_. One that...satisfied something in her, something buried deep, that yearned to get out and bask in his regard. 

But she didn't _do_ that. 

Michael held herself in check. "We only believe that's her goal because of what she revealed to Spock, which we have no way to verify. Besides, it's the future. By definition you don't know what happens. Something about me could...change." Even as she said it, Michael could hear her own doubt. 

Pike looked at her askance. "That argument requires believing, truly believing, that future-you becomes inexplicably evil. I can't even say it with a straight face, but sure, let's suppose. Even if that were true, future-you would already know about this plan because her past self took part in it. It creates a time paradox whereby we have no hope of success."

"We have to try. You heard what Saru said. The future AI could travel through one of the wormholes she creates—"

"A supposition he pulled out of thin air, based on no evidence whatsoever. The red angel didn't bring the future AI back. We did that. _Us_. We sent the probe into the rift. For all we know, our actions waved a red flag in front of its face. So yes, by all means, let's interfere some more."

Michael swallowed, nodding the point. "It's a fair argument."

"Oh, I'm just getting started. All this hustle and bustle, gotta do it now... _why_? There is absolutely no time pressure here. There's no imminent threat. We can hit pause and think of another way to draw her out, one that doesn't risk putting you in a body bag."

"Leland seems to think—"

"Yes, _Leland_ ," Pike said, deep reservation in his voice, bordering on betrayal. "Leland knew everything about the red angel project and instead of working with us, instead of trusting us, he tried to _destroy Spock's mind_ to get what he needed, damn the consequences." Anger simmered underneath Pike's usual cool, so unlike him. 

But then, Pike was defined by his integrity, honorable and loyal to the end. If anything would get to him, it would be Starfleet betraying his crew. 

"I thought he was your friend," Michael said, still a little surprised. 

Pike shook his head and Michael could read loss there, quickly hidden. "The Leland I knew _was_ my friend. This guy? I don't even recognize him." He glanced out to the passing stars before meeting her eyes again. "Section 31 is poison, a stain on everything we stand for. Cornwell and the other Admirals may believe it's a necessary evil, but they're wrong. If our survival requires betraying our principles, then we don't deserve to live."

Michael swallowed, her throat suddenly tight, some emotion trembling through her as he summed up what she'd been thinking. Where Tyler offered nothing but evasions and platitudes about the greater good, here Pike was, clear-eyed about their values, passionate and uncompromising.

Sometimes he made it very hard to stay...unaffected. 

Pike sighed, losing a little of his intensity. "And it doesn't escape me that everything we now _think_ we know comes from Section 31. Given their track record, I think I'm entirely justified in calling horseshit on anything they say until it's independently verified." He shook his head again. "That's Cornwell's call to make, and she has, so I'm being a good officer and following orders." 

He looked to her then, blue eyes drowning in concern. "But you're still mine, Michael. You're under my purview, Katrina's made that clear. So if any part of you doesn't want to do this, I need you to be real and tell me. No judgment, no recrimination—we can find another way."

Michael controlled herself at Pike proclaiming her _his_ —that wasn't what he meant and was antiquated, besides—but it was harder to reckon with the sheer emotion of all this, on both sides. Pike was almost pleading, clearly struggling, and everything in Michael wanted to give him what he sought...but she couldn't. She _couldn't_ and something about that hurt her in a way she didn't understand. 

It wasn't the commander side of her failing to give her captain what he asked for. It was Michael being unable to reassure _Chris_. That was the harder thing.

She met his eyes evenly, trying to hearten him with her look. "I know you're worried..."

Pike deflated a little, knowing exactly where she was going, dropping into his chair and leaning forward, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. 

In this moment, Michael wanted nothing more than to take away this burden, to convince him that it was all okay, that it was a sound, reasonable plan. If she could do that, she might even be able to convince herself. 

But nothing she could say would do that. He'd see right through it. And they didn't lie to each other. 

So she moved toward him, a little surprised when he didn't react to her presence, hunched over like it was some kind of self-protection. She reached out to the fingers still pinching the bridge of his nose. 

Her touch jolted him, Pike looking up at her, something lost in him now. 

Michael smiled and sank to her knees, meeting him on his level, still clasping his hand loosely. "I _appreciate_ your worry," she tried again, putting the truth of it into a look. "It means everything to know I have someone watching my back."

"Always," he murmured, his eyes warm, close. There was nothing of the reserved, controlled captain here, Michael seeing straight through to the man behind all that, so desperately worried. 

"Nothing you said is untrue, but if all of this is my doing, I need to know why. I need answers. And we can only get them if we capture the red angel. So to your question, yes, I have doubts, but I'm overlooking them for a cause greater than my concerns."

Pike stared at her, unblinking. "I can't watch you die," he said, soft, like a confession. 

Michael nodded in understanding. "Airiam's death is so fresh. And you lost Connelly, too. I know how hard that must be—"

Pike shook his head, a little frustrated, a little helpless. "No, Michael, I can't lose _you_." Eyes intense, he squeezed her hand where she still clasped his, sending an instinctive jolt of _feeling_ through her— 

And then his meaning landed with the concussive force of a blast wave, slamming Michael into thoughts and feelings that she'd been very purposefully avoiding. Every time she'd felt herself drawn to him, but quashed it. Every time her eyes tracked him without conscious thought. Every time he made her smile. 

She'd been denying her attraction for so long, it never occurred to her to wonder if he might feel it, too. 

And here he was, just putting it out there, as bold and brave as he always asked of his crew. 

If he could do that, well. She could live up to his example. 

Michael smiled, small, and squeezed his fingers, watching as the warmth in his eyes intensified. "You won't lose me. Trust your crew. We have a plan."

"I hate our plan," he admitted, defusing the sudden tension sparking between them with that lightness, the same way he made crises seem manageable, by sheer force of will. 

"Me, too."

Pike—Chris, she should probably just accept that—reached his other hand to her face, cupping her cheek. His fingers shook a little as he touched her, reverent. "I didn't intend to put this on you."

Michael nodded. "You wouldn't. You're not."

"Don't regret it, though," he added, like he needed to make that clear. Then he pulled her close, pressing his lips to hers, running his thumb over her cheek as he kissed her, careful and perfect. 

And just for a moment, the swirl of her thoughts went completely still. 

Michael reached for him just as Chris moved from the chair, dropping to his knees before her, mouths still connected. The warmth of the kiss spread throughout her entire body, heady and building. She ran her fingers over his jaw, to the back of his neck, pulling him to her harder, kissing him deeper. 

Chris made a small noise in the back of his throat, arms moving around to cradle her as he tilted his head the other way and kissed her again, their mouths opening, tasting of want and desperation. 

The sudden surge of _lust_ startled Michael into breaking the kiss, breathing hard. She stared at him, dazed, at the way his pupils dilated, his cheeks flushed. Just as affected as she.

Chris leaned in again, but Michael pressed her fingers to his lips, stilling him. "Wait. Just..."

His arms instantly loosened around her, touch going tentative as reality crashed back in, a hint of self-recrimination appearing in his expression. As if he'd done something wrong. 

Michael shook her head, pressing her forehead to his. "No, don't. I'm right here with you, I just—if we start, I don't know if I can stop." She pulled away from him, meeting his eyes. "And I need to be able to walk out that door."

Chris stared at her, understanding flashing alongside some kind of buried yearning that she was just now starting to see. It stole her breath a little. 

When it came, his voice was a dark rumble: "Then consider this something to live for."

***

After—after Leland's betrayal and Spock's forgiveness, after realizing she'd lived her entire life under the weight of guilt that wasn't hers to bear, too many emotional storms in too short a time, Michael was done. 

She was just...done. 

Michael turned to a wall console, asking, "Computer, location of Captain Pike."

"Captain Pike is in his quarters," the computer chirped back. 

Like it was meant to be.

***

It took Chris longer to answer the door chime than she'd expected. Eventually, he granted entrance and Michael walked in to find him on his couch, a closed book on the coffee table. Not a PADD, either, a real book, one that looked aged and worn with use. She frowned, puzzled as to why he was in his quarters when they were forty minutes from Essof IV. 

Chris stood at the sight of her, sympathy flashing through his expression. "I'm so sorry, Michael," he said, clearly aware of her altercation with Leland, his voice full of hurt for her. 

Michael shied away from opening up those feelings. She couldn't fall into them or she might never come out. 

"I'm sorry for you, too. I know he's your friend."

Chris slowly shook his head, a complex mix of emotions in his eyes, but mostly...sad. "I don't know if I ever knew him at all." There was remorse in that, Chris recontextualizing their history, likely questioning his own judgment in not seeing the truth of the man. 

Michael's mind went to Ash. She knew that pain well, believing in the core of someone only to be proven disastrously wrong. She knew there was nothing she could say. 

So she didn't even try. 

"I was surprised when the computer told me you were here."

A smile ghosted across Chris' face, some kind of weight in it. "Out there, I have to wear the mask. Always in control, never any hint of doubt. I found I needed...a moment." He gestured to the book on the table. "To go back to the wise thinkers before us, to center myself. Robert April used to call it 'becoming like stone.' An unmovable force, like a captain must be." The honesty was devastating, a captain admitting his own weakness. Lesser men would never allow anyone to see this. 

Chris was not a lesser man. 

"I was wrong before," Michael said abruptly, moving toward him. His eyes widened as she stepped close. "I'm walking out that door either way, but I need to _feel this_ first."

Chris swallowed, the flare of _heat_ in his eyes plain to see. But then he visibly controlled himself, expression turning conflicted. "You just got life-altering news—"

"And I'm going on a life-ending mission." Michael took the final step _into_ his personal space, close enough to see the flecks of gray in his eyes. "I just—I don't want to die, Chris. I want to live. While I still can, I want to live." 

It was enough. Chris' eyes flickered and then he leaned down and caught her mouth, the kiss shaky, but real. 

It went from zero to _scorching_ instantly, Michael opening her mouth, meeting him kiss for kiss, chasing his tongue, no hesitation. 

With a groan, Chris pulled her against him, hands landing on her body, lighting her up even through her uniform. He dragged his fingers down her back, over her hips, learning her by feel, nerve endings firing sensations at her brain, every instinct in her body screaming a resounding _yes_.

The absolute rightness slammed into her, Michael sucking in a gasp that broke their kiss. _This_ is what she needed. 

Chris stared into her eyes, both of them breathing hard, still wrapped around each other. Michael could feel his erection stirring against her; she pressed her hips into his, deliberate. "Make me feel alive, Chris," she whispered, hearing the longing in her own voice. 

His composure cracked. Chris hauled her close and _took_ her mouth in a brutal kiss. Then he was propelling her back to the far doorway, guiding the two of them into the bedroom, lights activating with their movement. 

They fell back on the bed together, Chris flinging out a hand to take his weight so he didn't crush her. He peppered Michael's face with kisses and she groaned, luxuriating in the weight him, the uncontrolled energy spiking under his skin. She plucked at his uniform jacket, her shaking hands no use at the clasps and zippers. 

Chris broke their kiss and rolled away from her, unzipping it himself, nodding to Michael to do the same. "Normally efficiency is not my goal here, but given our schedule..."

Michael actually laughed—she couldn't remember the last time that had happened—and started attacking her own uniform—shucking the jacket and shirt, kicking off her boots, and shimmying out of her pants with uncoordinated abandon. She was just getting rid of her bra when Chris moved back over her, gloriously naked, skin pressed to hers everywhere. 

Michael gasped at the sensory overload, arching against him as he kissed her again, then trailed kisses down her chin to her neck, his hands sliding from her arms down to her thighs, sparking sensation everywhere. 

" _Chris_ ," she gasped when he sucked a nipple into his mouth, soft despite all the urgency. She buried one hand in his hair, the other exploring the muscles of his back, reveling in his strength, in the feeling of being pressed down into his bed. 

He didn't let up, mouthing his way to her other breast, hands shifting her legs apart, one fingertip trailing lightly over the panties she hadn't taken off yet. She was already wet, dampness soaking through her underwear, Chris discovering that and exploiting it, pressing against her in a deliberate tease as he kissed down to her navel, his tongue just as much of a tease there. 

Michael bucked against his hand, breath short and heart pounding in her ears, that shivery pleasure cascading through her wherever he touched. When he held her hip down, not letting her move against him, Michael finally protested: "Chris, come on..."

Chris rested his chin on her belly. "Never let it be said that I'm a tease," he murmured, finger pulling away from her soaked panties, tracing up to where the band cut across her hip. He tugged there, his other hand releasing her to join in, urging her to shift her hips up so he could slide her panties off. 

He pulled them down her legs, shifting back a bit and letting her take in all of him, defined arms, strong shoulders, his chest hair peppered with gray. His dick lay heavy and hard against his muscled thigh and Michael wanted it inside her _right now_. 

Then her underwear was gone and he moved back over her, hands running up her thighs as he did, sending sparks up her spine from those simple, light touches. He spread her legs further as he went, leaning down to kiss here and there, nostrils flaring as he caught the scent of her.

He slowed as he kissed up her inner thigh, something obscene about him between her legs like that, mouth on her, blue eyes holding hers. Michael moaned as her hips bucked, a wave of desire rushing through her, the single most erotic thing she'd ever seen in her life. 

Chris seemed to clock it, leaning up to smirk at her before breaking the gaze to bend his head and put his mouth where she wanted it. He licked through her folds, fingers opening her so his tongue could trace light figure eights over her clit, Michael crying out wordlessly as white-hot pleasure flared everywhere, intense and unrelenting. 

" _Chris_ ," Michael called out, moving against him, muscles already trembling, trying to get more, but Chris just held her in place and relentlessly fluttered his tongue over her, waves of sensation urging her even higher. Two fingers pressed inside her and Michael made some choked-off noise, pinned between his fingers and his mouth, too much pleasure firing in her brain, nothing she ever wanted to end. 

He thrust his fingers inside her slowly, testing, but Michael was so wet and open there was no resistance, just those muscles tightening automatically, wanting more. Chris crooked his fingers and rubbed her g-spot and Michael cried out again, strangled, as a different kind of pleasure radiated outwards, joining the sweetness of his mouth, the combined stimulation on the edge of too much.

She sucked in air, feeling sweat beading behind her knees, under her breasts, all over her body, fine tremors obliterating any thought of being in control of herself. " _Please, please_ ," she whispered over and over again, her voice a wreck. 

In response, Chris backed off with his fingers and slowed his tongue, before he finally pulled away entirely, Michael whimpering in protest. "I didn't mean _stop_ ," she panted, feeling empty now, empty and _aching_. 

"Oh, I'm not," he said darkly, kissing the inside of her thigh, eyes glowing as he made eye contact again, his mouth and chin shiny and slick. He nibbled his way up to her hip, then across her stomach to her breasts again, hands tracing light patterns into her skin. 

Michael yanked his head up to hers, claiming his mouth, tasting herself there, pulling him down on top of her. "Inside me," she muttered against his mouth before kissing him, hand moving to stroke his still-hard dick.

Chris moaned into the kiss, but didn't argue. He simply shifted against her, pressing the head of his dick to her opening. He pulled back, blue eyes intense, as he sank into her slowly. 

At least, that seemed to be the intention, until Michael dug a heel into his ass and _drove_ him into her. 

Chris didn't expect it, sliding in _fast_ , no resistance, both of them groaning at the suddenness of it. Chris froze when he was fully inside her, trying to adjust, and Michael hissed out a breathless, " _Yes,_ " at the stretch of him, at how perfectly he filled her. She clenched around him, so gloriously _full_.

" _Fuck_ , Michael," Chris moaned, sounding ragged, a knife's edge from falling apart. 

Michael smiled against his mouth. "Yes, please," she said, cheeky, kissing him again, open and inviting. 

Chris huffed a laugh against her, but didn't delay, withdrawing and then snapping his hips into her, thorough and fierce, until _she_ was the one moaning, out of control. Then it was slick and hot, wandering hands and sweaty skin, pleasure stealing any ability to think. All Michael could do was _feel_ , worries erased by the mindless waves of lightning rocketing through her every time Chris sank in and hit her just right. 

All too soon, she was shaking against him, her orgasm so close, if she could just—if he just—

Chris' fingers found her clit again, using the exact pressure she liked—how did he even—and she was done, _flying_ , the rush wiping out anything that wasn't _hot_ and _yes_ and _Chris_. 

He shuddered as he came, forehead buried in her shoulder, the sound he made almost wounded. Michael cradled him close, her heart fluttering oddly in her chest, trembling aftershocks still spreading through her. 

They breathed like that for long, delirious moments, Michael's mind blissfully blank of anything but the pleasure radiating everywhere. Then Chris sighed and pulled out of her, moving to her side. But he didn't go far, pressed against her, a hand stroking over her hip, looking pensive. 

Michael reached up and traced the divot in his chin. "Can't we keep reality at bay a little longer?"

The corners of his mouth quirked, amused, then regretful as he grabbed her fingers and kissed them. "I want the time to do this right," he said, quiet. 

Michael tilted her head and looked down at their naked bodies. "I think we did okay."

Chris looked at her, dry. "That was an amuse-bouche. I require at least three hours and several more courses, but that's not what I'm talking about."

Michael swallowed, mind drifting to what the main course would bring, but she didn't let herself get lost in it, nodding. "I know." She wanted that, too, but she couldn't dwell on it now. It was too much. 

Instead she leaned against him, her arm wrapping around his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of it beneath her as he breathed. "This helped," she offered, trailing her fingers along his skin. There were still things worth fighting for. Life wasn't all sadness and pain. She needed to remember that. 

Chris touched her cheek and smiled down at her. "Good." He kissed her again, soft, like a beginning, before pulling back to look at her, eyes tender. Michael looked back, not knowing what this was, but reveling in it all the same. 

Eventually, Chris broke the connection, sighing as he lay back. "Computer, time to Essof IV."

The computer chirped and answered: "Ten minutes to Essof IV."

It jolted Michael, the cold rush of a final countdown washing over her. This was a respite...and those didn't last. 

Chris sighed again, this one decidedly unhappy, and sat up. "We should shower. I will not be able to send you out there if I can still smell you all over me.

Michael smiled, again marveling at how _open_ he was. She wanted to bask in it, _live_ in it for a while, until it was no longer startling. Instead she nodded him toward the bathroom. "You go."

Chris studied her, confused. "You don't want—"

"No. If I'm going out, I'm going out smelling like you," Michael said grimly, the reality of _ten minutes_ settling around her. 

Chris' eyes darkened. He leaned back down and _took_ her mouth, the kiss focused, intense. When he broke away, all of his doubts and worry had vanished, that old certainty back in his eyes. "That won't happen. We'll get this done."

Michael smiled, touching the corner of his mouth. "Becoming like stone."

Chris looked into her eyes, calm and sure. "Have faith, Michael." 

And despite knowing it was part of his mask, that he gave others confidence even he didn't feel, something in her still _settled_ at that look, reassured. He was behind her. They were all behind her. 

She could do this. 

***

Fin. Feedback is adored.

**Author's Note:**

> Right. That's done. Back to my happy place: snarky hijinks interspersed with porn.


End file.
